Turned and departed silent. I, too late,
Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn.”
There was a moment’s pause after the stately lines were finished.
“I understand,” said Barbara, finding her voice. “But I never knew,—before. It is true, Mrs. Willowby, about losing some things by college life. I’m beginning to think that there are lots of things to be learned at home.”
The gentle brown eyes smiled at the new tone of humility. “My dear little girl,” began Mrs. Willowby, “if you have discovered that, you have learned the very thing for which you were sent to college. The most important lessons in the word are not learned from textbooks, and all—Goodness, Barbara, what on earth was that?”
Somewhere from the back regions of the house had come the sound of a mighty explosion. It was followed by the sound of breaking glass, and a shrill shriek.
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FLOOR SAT THE IDGIT
“The Idgit!” breathed Barbara. The Emerson slid to the floor, and the hostess and guest rushed to the kitchen.
In the middle of the floor sat the Idgit, a whity-yellow island in a sea of raspberry juice and broken glass. From the oven of the gas-stove came a volume of flame and smoke. The stove-lids lay on the floor, and the kitchen was full of flying flecks of soot. Barbara rushed to the stove, and turned off the burners, one by one. Then she lifted the huddled heap from the floor.